Pistachio Christmas Tree
by kinosternon
Summary: Oneshot, post-series. Hiyori is weird, and too much, and struggling to adjust to things with Ikuya now. But he'll be content if he can keep the worst of it to himself, and do more good than harm. [[Emeto warning; rated for language]]


**A/N:** **Posting this on a whim, because it stands on its own (unlike most of the rest of the stuff I've been working on for these two), I'd like to do a "12-days-of-ficmas"-style thing if I can, and heck, at least it's seasonally appropriate.**

 **For the record: I love Hiyori and his numerous character flaws to pieces, mostly because I have never felt as called out by an anime character in my entire life.**

* * *

It was a quiet walk through the station. Of course it was quiet, but the moments of Ikuya's absence seemed to stand out at the most random moments; sometimes it was simply a matter of course that Hiyori was by himself, but sometimes the silence ached.

Hiyori did his best to ignore those moments, but they made certain things pop out. Young people spending time together. Children on playgrounds. Whenever he spotted a café or a museum or a sporting goods store. And lately, something about standing at crosswalks, waiting for the light to change, made him very aware of the moments when he was alone.

It was that, maybe, that made his eyes alight on the Starbucks across the street, keep his eyes on it after the light changed and go over to investigate. Honestly, Hiyori preferred independent places; during his time in America, chains like Starbucks had been the only constant, and he'd grown rather tired of them. But the Starbucks stores in Japan tended to have more promotions, and he ended up getting curious about those despite himself.

Maybe he'd have something to tell Ikuya about the next time he saw him. But even if he didn't, he reminded himself, it was fun to stay curious just by itself. Even if nobody would listen to any story he told.

After that initial burst of curiosity, the sign drew him in so he could figure out what flavor "Christmas tree" actually was. It couldn't be pine, could it? And that syrup on top...was it strawberry? They'd just done a strawberry flavor—Christmas cake inspired—but it had sold out quickly almost everywhere that Hiyori had seen.

He stared down at the sign, reading the fine print, and felt his chest tighten.

 _Oh._

He felt light and heavy, all at once. and found himself wandering his way into the store.

He checked the stuff on display out of habit, but there was nothing to match the drink, this time; he supposed that made sense. Habit made him look for the most interesting thing in the display case, but there didn't appear to be anything new or pistachio-flavored.

Just as well; he wasn't feeling particularly hungry.

He ordered the drink at the front, stumbling through the order and paying. He wasn't so great at talking today; he jumped and each time he was asked an unexpected question. It probably wasn't as bad as it felt—Ikuya had never said much about that habit of his, didn't even seem to notice—but Hiyori hated it. He hated being that one awkward step out of time with the rest of the world. He hated drawing attention to himself.

He found a seat in a corner and took a ginger sip of the drink, expecting it to be hot.

It wasn't too bad, though; the pistachio cream helped to bring down the temperature. It coated his tongue, insistent and just a little bit bitter—though that last part was probably the loneliness.

* * *

He wandered his way home, after that. Ikuya hadn't messaged him—not that he'd really expected him to; he'd never really spent much time on his phone, even around Hiyori, and Hiyori suspected around his friends he'd be even less likely to be distracted. He didn't want to send the first message, because that might be interrupting him. But he wanted to let him know about the drink, too. Maybe he'd want to get it on the way back to campus?

He fiddled with his phone, opening the messaging app he used with Ikuya and then closing it, over and over again. His stomach sloshed.

The truth was, the pistachio drink had been a bit too strong for him. It wasn't sweet, but it was rich, coating his tongue and the inside of his mouth so that the flavor was impossible to ignore. He could taste it, even now, and it made his stomach turn over.

Hiyori slumped down at his desk and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Truth be told, he felt awful, and the only thing he was glad about was that no one was there to see.

He didn't want to study; the thought of working out made his stomach churn; and he didn't even feel like he was up to reading. It wasn't really even dinnertime yet, but perhaps it would be best if he just went to bed.

Fuck it. He didn't have very many hopes for today anyway. Bed it was.

He'd thought about staying up just in case Ikuya messaged him, but if he was going to turn in, there was no point in sitting on it any longer. He sent Ikuya a picture of the sign: _Looks like this just opened at the Starbucks! It doesn't look too sweet, so probably you'll like it? They usually sell out pretty fast, though._

He set his phone down on the desk and went to his bed, flopping down and curling up around his stomach. It had started to growl angrily at him, but the very thought of leaving to eat made him press against the bedspread and hide.

He didn't want to move at all, in fact, not even to get under the covers.

He didn't know how long it was before he moved again, but he woke up from a dream he didn't remember, sweaty, heavy with guilt, and staggering to the bathroom before he was even fully aware. He wrenched open the lid of the toilet and crouched over it, nearly bashing his chin on the rim as he gagged violently, once, and then brought up the meager, curdled, green contents of his stomach.

It felt like he was trying to expel something else, with the force with which it happened; but then it was over, and he was just himself, heaving and shivering and feeling ridiculous and guiltier than ever. So much for not wasting food.

From the bathroom, he heard his phone's chat alert noise, a soft dinging. He went over to it on impulse, half-feeling like he was floating, not walking.

It was a picture in return; a pristine, red-syrup-topped drink identical to the one he'd ordered earlier, but bigger.

Hiyori gagged and nearly dropped his phone as he went running to the bathroom again. It was a false alarm, thankfully, but he still stood over the bowl for a minute or two to be sure, heart pounding in his throat, panting through his mouth and trying to calm down.

Ikuya had read his text. And followed his advice, and enjoyed himself as a result.

And under the picture, when Hiyori checked his phone again, was a message: _You're right, it is pretty good. Thanks._

Hiyori smiled for a moment, closing his eyes. Then he texted back. _It looks good! I'm glad you managed to get it._

Shakily, he stared at his phone before adding a _You're welcome,_ at the end, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck, and flushed the toilet, quietly closing the lid.

He felt too restless now to go back to bed just yet, even if when he peeked out the window of his dorm it was dark outside.

He settled down at his desk, pressing one careful hand to his stomach before turning to face his textbooks. Whatever that odd storm of queasiness had been, it seemed to have passed. He felt better.

Maybe he was up to a bit of studying after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I read an adorable doujin recently (though there are not a lot of HiyoIku doujins out there; believe me, I've been looking) that posited that Hiyori's café hobby got started because Ikuya had/has issues with his appetite and cute food helps him overcome them. It was so sweet and angsty that I added it to my headcanon pile immediately.**

 **Also, everything about the Starbucks specials in here is entirely true to life, for Japan in general if not for Tokyo. Yes, I tried the pistachio flavor, specifically for the love of these two's dynamic. Yeah, it was actually kind of gross—I gave Hiyori my opinion on pistachios for this fic. (Thankfully my reaction to it wasn't quite this drastic, though.)**


End file.
